


Breathless

by withaflashoflove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8821252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflashoflove/pseuds/withaflashoflove
Summary: Based on a tumblr prompt request: Barry flirting with Iris once they're a couple, maybe in the early stages.





	

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he asks, looking at her from the kitchen counter, watching her replace the coffee filter and fill the machine up with water.

“You keep looking at me.”

He moves a little closer to her, bringing the distance between them to about three feet, “you’re pretty to look at, you know.”

Iris feels her cheeks heat up and she turns away from him, smile drawing wide on her face. Barry was quick to dish out compliments, that she caught onto pretty quickly in their three weeks of dating, but for some reason, every time he said something like that, she couldn’t help but blush and fill with overwhelming happiness. 

“You’re really pretty,” he repeats, this time coming to stand behind her. 

“Watch your hand, Bear,” she smiles, turning around to face him, “the machine’s hot and you’ll burn yourself.” 

“That’s okay.”

“Getting burned?”

His hand comes to caress her face and he feels her lean into his touch. “Getting burned, getting bombarded with ice cubes, having to swim 30 miles, editing a 100-page essay, watching bad, cheesy movies...” he lists, “...all of them wouldn’t amount to anything as long as I got to hold you.” 

She lets out a hiccuped laugh and gives him her best eye roll, before turning back to care for the coffee currently brewing.

“No comment?” he asks, not budging from his spot next to her. He knows she’s flattered, but her shyness when it came to romance usually left him seeking a little bit of validation.

Iris decides that ignoring him would be pointless, so she turns off the coffee machine and brings her arms around his waist, leaning up to give him a quick kiss before falling to the ground again. “You know how much I love coffee?”

“Mhm.”

“And you know how I need it to feel alive in the morning?”

That question earns her a resounding head nod and laugh.

“Well,” she says, pulling him a little closer, “I’d give up coffee if it meant being able to hold you.”

Barry’s left stunned at her words and he can’t help it when his eyes well with tears. Iris quickly notices and pulls away from him, walking past to grab two mugs from the cupboard.

He doesn’t know why she always does that, why she pulls away when the moment gets a little too emotional, but today, he was set on getting her to stay. 

“Iris,” he whispers, turning to watch her grab the milk from the fridge.

“Hmm,” she hums, coming back to stand next to him.

Before he can finish his thought, the kitchen fills with the welcoming smell of the dark-roasted coffee as soon as she begins pouring it, and he’s momentarily distracted by how good and how domestic this feels...to just stand next to her on a Saturday morning and begin their daily routine _together._

He watches her set the second mug down, both effectively filled and before she can reach for the milk, he takes her hand in his, quickly pulling her so that her body is flushed against his. He leans forward and kisses the center of forehead, before letting his lips trail to her temples, then up to kiss the top of her head, then back down to kiss her nose, before coming home to her lips. 

When he pulls away, he notices her hands are wrapped tightly around his back and sees her own tears threatening to escape her eyes.

He wants to say it again. 

Wants to tell her over and over _I love you_.

Instead, he decides against it. Maybe this Saturday morning, three weeks into their relationship wasn’t the best time to get too emotional. Instead, he locks eyes with her and a teasing smile comes to his lips.

“I get to pour the milk,” he finally says.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you always fill the cup up with too much coffee and not enough milk.”

“Excuse you,” she loosens her hold on him, “I make an excellent cup of coffee with perfect ratios.”

“But I make it better.”

“Shut up.”

Her nose scrunches and she lets go to reach for the gallon of milk. He sees her hands work their magic, as the majestic solid black color in each cup turns a beautiful brown, and he can’t help but smile at her handiwork.

“You know,” she says, “if you’re not impressed, I can just drink both.”

“Don’t think so,” he responds, “you did not wake me up at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning just so you could tease me and drink coffee by yourself.”

“Ahh, but what if I did?” she muses.

“Then that’d be cruel and unfair.”

“Yeah, but you’d deserve it for being so distracting.”

With that, she takes her mug and makes her way to the dining room table. Barry stays in place, watching her pull out a chair and take a seat. He slowly follows after, taking his sweet time to reach her. 

“I’m making breakfast.” 

“I know you are,” she replies, “I look forward to eating it.”

“Who says I’m making you any, Miss West.”

“What?”

 “I’m making myself a huge breakfast...” he whispers, face coming dangerously close to hers, hands coming to rest on either side of the table in front of her, body molding around her chair, “...and I will eat every last bit of it.”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t move; only pulls out her newspaper and attempts her best to read it. Barry notices her shaky hands and decides to place one chaste kiss on the soft skin of her neck, eliciting a jolt in the papers of the newspaper when he lingers a bit too long. He laughs and leans away from her, heading back into the kitchen to start breakfast preparation, acting as though nothing had just happened. 

She doesn’t say a word, only catches her breath and goes back to reading, heartbeat still racing much too fast to let her concentrate on the words. 

The kitchen rustles with noise and smells of savory food, and minutes later when he comes back to set the table, Iris can’t help but grin when she sees a heart-shaped omelet and a piece of toast with jam spread along its surface, spelling out her name. She quickly sets down the newspaper and quietly chases after him. 

When he turns around, he’s surprised to see her so close, but the shock dissipates as soon as he feels the touch of her lips on his, her arms wrapping gently around his neck, her body closing any space that was once between them.


End file.
